


teeth

by deepestfathoms



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Anne has a falcon, British Sign Language, Broken Bones, Broken Jaw, Bullying, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Kitty is a brat, Muteness, Touch-Starved, can be read as Aralyn if you want, change my mind, it’s a vague line tho tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: When you work in a musical, breaking your jaw and then getting it wired shut for eight weeks isn’t really a good thing.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	teeth

There was a crash.

And then a crack.

And then a crunch.

The girl at the bottom of the stairs had her bottom jaw bent in a horrible position, her tongue lolling out of one side and bloody drool spilled all down her chin. Her eyes are upturned in her skull; she didn’t seem to be all there, though no one was surprised. Those broken bones must be excruciating.

———

Eight weeks of silence. A jaw wired shut. Almost three months of only eating liquidated foods. Black and blue floral bruising bloomed across the sides of her face. An eternity of humiliation.

———

In theory, it was difficult to miss Joan. Nineteen years of age and the workaholic music director stood at roughly 5’4, and it didn’t look like she was going to be growing again anytime soon. However, in practice, the girl was so quiet and self-enclosed that a lot of the time, she practically melted into the theater walls. That made it a slightly unpleasant surprise when Aragon was disturbed from her reading by a quiet tapping at her doorframe—it was most undignified for a queen as regal as herself to startle like that.

An irritable comment jumped to her lips, but it died as she looked up. Joan looked…worried. That wouldn’t normally strike her in any meaningful way, not if it was anyone else at her door—everyone got worried sometimes, although a fair number of people found it more difficult to talk to her than to others. But for all that had happened in her past, Joan had maintained a rarely-changing expression of passivity throughout the time she’d been reincarnated. Perhaps as a defense mechanism, perhaps simply because that was her resting face; the girl just kept her emotions to herself. However, now, it was incredibly visible that she was experiencing the worst kind of gnawing fear if you knew how to look for it. Nails digging into her arms as she crossed them over her chest, eyes darting all over, and her heel pressing against her other shin like she was trying to keep from anxious tapping. The only reason her lip wasn’t chewed raw was because of the wires and rubber bands anchoring her mouth firmly shut.

Immediately, the irritation turned to alarm bells.

The two just looked at each other for a few minutes, neither seemingly willing to break the silence first. Then, slowly, Joan took one step into the dressing room. Now her fingers were digging into her arm more. Aragon felt the strongest urge to get up from her chair and check to make sure she hadn’t broken skin, but at the same time, she feared that if she tried to move too quickly she would spook this very obviously troubled girl back into her usual repression. It would be wiser to wait for her to say whatever it was she was struggling to get out, but that didn’t make the decision any easier as a thousand and one possibilities as to what could have gone wrong raced through her head.

_“May I talk to you, Aragon?”_

The hesitation in the girl’s sign language only made those alarm bells ringing in her head louder. It was only her many, many years as a queen that allowed Aragon to keep her voice calm.

“Of course, Joan. Come, sit.”

Slowly, painfully so, Joan made her way to the chair opposite her, after closing the door to the dressing room behind her. But she didn’t sit down. Rather, she stood next to it. Ordinarily Aragon might have taken that as one of those little acts of rebellion Kitty liked to partake in from time to time, but not in this case. It felt more like the unwillingness of a confronted animal to lay down, for fear that they might need to flee at a moment’s notice. That bad, then. Carefully, the queen put her bookmark in between the pages she was on and then set the book to the side. Whatever this was about, she doubted it would be over quickly.

“Now then, what is it you want to discuss?”

 _“Well… The director talked to me. He said I should take some time off to heal.”_ Joan signed.

“That’s good,” Aragon said. However, she noticed the frown set on Joan’s lips and realized that it was most definitely not a good thing.

 _“Maybe.”_ Joan let her hands go limp for a movement, then raised them again to continue. _“But that got me thinking. Maybe, even after I heal, I should just leave the wires in. Seems like everyone would be happier without me talking.”_

“Joan, you can’t seriously be thinking of doing that?”

Through great force of will Aragon managed to keep her tone mostly level, but even the very slight undertone of ice and steel buried under a dozen layers of constraint made Joan flinch.

_“I-I just….”_

“I don’t see why you think that’s a good idea. Do you know how damaging that could be for your mouth? It can’t remain shut forever.”

_“Aragon-”_

“Not to mention that you could put so many other factors at risk-”

“Aragon, please!”

Well that cut her off sharply.

For a moment Aragon just blinked at the girl, startled. This was perhaps the first time she had heard Joan raise her voice at anybody, let alone a queen. It was especially shocking because it had come out more as a strangled hiss between firmly clamped teeth, like the freezing whisper of a fanged glacier. But as she got over that element of surprise, she noticed two things about the girl standing before her. Firstly, it was that she was shaking, quite badly, actually. And secondly, that the bruises along her cheeks were ignited in shades of ivory and indigo and violet from the way she had been clenching her jaws through their bindings.

Moving oh-so-carefully, Aragon up her purse and began to rifle through it. Joan stepped back, but what she brought out wasn’t some form of weapon, but rather a small tin box. A box which Aragon opened and turned towards her.

“Have a mint, Joan.”

Joan just looked at her, baffled.

Aragon quickly realized her mistake and grimaced. It gets the smallest, weakest smile from Joan. She takes one, despite knowing she couldn’t eat it, signed a rapid apology, then left.

———

Trudging into the coffee shop during a fire-breathing rainstorm made Joan miserable enough, but it only got worse when the shrewd older woman working the counter wouldn’t take her order when she attempted to sign it to her and then write it out.

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to need to use your words.” She oozed.

Joan gestured for her bruised mouth and then bared her teeth so she could show the woman that they were firmly clamped shut with rubber bands. The worker leaned back slightly in distaste.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” She said. “Mutes aren’t our top priority here. You can just wait your turn while I handle the other customers.”

Joan waved her head around to find the shop completely empty thanks to the storm outside. She turned back to the worker with an “are you kidding me?” look.

“She’s in the bathroom.” The worker said cooly.

Joan glowered, but her anger quickly dissolved and she made the closest thing to a sigh that she could manage. She stepped away from the counter and waited.

Several long moments passed. The rain outside continuously eased up and then fell harder as if Mother Nature couldn’t decide if she wanted to flood the city today or not. The worker behind the counter kept glancing at Joan, hoping that she would just give up and leave. She was now regretting telling her to wait because it meant she had some disabled kid just loitering in her store when the front door suddenly swung open.

Two haughty American tourists came in with a spray of raindrops, closing their umbrellas, but keeping up their giddy chatter as they approached the counter. One of them glanced at Joan with a questioning look. The worker waved a dismissive hand.

“Ignore her,” She said. “She’s waiting her turn until she learns how to speak up.”

Joan glared and, once again, gestured for her mouth.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” One of the two customers said, pacing around Joan while the other placed an order. “Why don’t you speak?” He eyed Joan’s bruised jaw. “Ohhh. I see.”

“My little brother broke his jaw once,” His friend piped up. “He couldn’t talk for two months!”

“What does it feel like?” The one in front of Joan asked. “Does it hurt?”

Then, without warning, he poked her roughly in the jaw, as if he were trying to pry it open himself. Joan swatted his hands away frantically and reared back, rubbing the area that had been touched. Pain spiraled from her mouth all over again.

“Don’t be a brute.” Said a sharp, barbed voice from behind Joan.

“Oh, hey!” The customer at the counter said. “You’re Anne Boleyn, aren’t you?”

Joan turned and was shocked to see that it was, in fact, Anne Boleyn herself standing there. Her arms were crossed firmly over her chest and her eyes narrowed in a venomous glare. She looked like a coiled up snake ready to lunge.

“Yes,” Anne said, casting a dark glare down on the customers, who step away, sensing her anger. She comes up beside Joan and sets a comforting, protective hand on her shoulder. “You will not touch her again.”

The two tourists nodded and awkwardly sidled away to take their drinks and scamper out with their proverbial tails tucked between their legs.

“Now,” Anne turned her glower on the worker. “I understand that Joan had wanted something?”

“She can wait. You were here first.” The worker said.

Anne ruffled. “Serve her right now.” She snarled lowly, and even Joan was startled by her sudden tone. It was as deep and rumbling as a big cat’s growl, yet cold and scaly like a King Cobra.

The worker didn’t dare quarrel with the woman, so she plucked up the piece of paper left on the counter with Joan’s order and began to make the drink. The whole time, Joan stood still at Anne’s side, eyes wide.

After the drink was finished, Anne ordered one of her own, paid, and then guided Joan over to the front of the shop. She’s not at all bristled anymore and wore a warm smile on her lips.

“That was fun,” She chuckled lightly. “Say, kiddo, wanna come over for dinner? Sudden, I know-“ She laughed this time, a hearty, real one. “But I want to keep an eye on you. Plus, I know we’re having soup tonight. You can eat soup, can’t you?”

Joan nodded, flustered. Anne’s grin grew wider.

“Wonderful.”

—

“We have company!” Anne chimed loudly as she walked through the front door with a fidgeting Joan in tow.

Several heads popped up from an area in the downstairs area, each wearing a different expression- Cathy at the dining table with a curious look, Kitty and Jane on the couch with matching bitter frowns, Cleves from the downstairs hallway with friendly eyes, and Aragon in the kitchen with a warm grin. All Joan can do is give a tiny wave and a nervous smile.

“Hello, dear,” Aragon greeted as Anne and Joan walked over to the kitchen counter. The smell of basil and tomatoes drifted from the pot she was stirring. Anne’s memory hadn’t failed her- they were eating soup that night.

“Hello, beautiful.” Anne replied and Aragon shot her a look, although Joan could tell it was mock-annoyance. “I found this little rascal,” She set a hand on Joan’s head. “at that coffee shop with really good hot chocolate but really shitty workers.”

Aragon knew exactly what she meant, as she gave a knowing nod.

“Ah. That one.” She shook her head, looking back down at the pot. “I’m not sure what they did, but I’ll make sure to leave a one-star review on Yelp.”

Anne laughed, and even Joan gave a tiny giggle.

“Oh! I should show you my falcon before dinner!”

“It’s raining,” Jane said helpfully from the couch. Anne gave her a snake-like glower.

“Don’t be a buzzkill,” She said. “Come on, my darling!”

She grabbed Joan by the hand and led her out to the backyard, missing the blush that dusted her cheeks from the use of the pet name.

The two of them walk out to the backyard, Joan holding an umbrella over their heads, and towards a large wooden structure. It sort of looked like a house with a metal net grating over the sides. Joan could see several perches from inside it.

Anne gave her a wild smile before she slipped on a glove and opened the small door on the front. She held her arm into the pen and then pulled back after a moment, a beautiful brown and grey falcon perched on her wrist. Joan goggles at it with wide eyes.

“This is Baguette.” Anne said. “Just kidding! Her name is Freya. Isn’t she pretty?”

Joan nodded excitedly.

“Watch this.” Anne grinned. “Freya! _Hup!_ ”

Anne threw a leather lure as high as she could in the air and Freya shot off of her arm like a rocket. Her wings were primed and they slammed down with more than enough force to send her spiraling into the sky. He darted after the lure, and Anne snapped the cord attached to it, sending the mouse-sized lump off to the side, spinning like a satellite on a line around her. Freya banked, flying up and away a short way before looping around and diving at the lure. It’s clear that she is very good at this game, but Anne had learned just the right moment to change the angle of her swing, switching the direction the lure is sailing and throwing her off just enough that she has to make another pass.

Anne twirled the lure like a lasso, changing the pitch and yaw of the loops, sending it higher, lower, and in sweeping waves. Freya moves like a lightning strike in a hurricane, dive bombing one moment just as she yanks it away, rising back to circle, prepare, and dive again.

They fall into a rhythm, just different enough to keep them on their toes, but solid enough that the rest of the world faded away, until Freya broke off suddenly, catching a glimpse of something else.

“Freya!” Anne shouted as Joan giggled softly beside her. She snapped the lure in an attempt to catch her bird’s attention. “Come on! You’re making a bad first impression!”

Freya wheeled around after a moment and soared back down to the two. She lands dutifully on Anne’s outstretched arm, but is clearly a little crabby about not being able to catch her prey. She eases up when Anne gives her a treat.

“Wanna hold her?” Anne asked Joan, who nodded eagerly. She passed the girl a glove, which she quickly pulled on. “Okay. Be very careful, okay? And don’t freak out.”

Anne took the umbrella and passed Freya over to Joan. The bird stepped onto the younger girl’s arms and flexed her razor sharp talons around the glove, squeezing Joan’s wrist. Joan eyed the claws wryly.

Anne could tell Joan had a million questions, but her wired jaw kept her from verbalizing them. All she could do was stare at the falcon and the falconer with saucer-wide eyes.

“Dinner’s ready!” Aragon suddenly called from the back door.

Joan jolted a little and instinctively leaned away, but Freya remained poised on her arm. Anne laughed and put her bird back into her pen.

“Impressed?” She grinned.

Joan nodded.

“Good!” Anne said. “Now, let’s get inside before Catalina starts yelling at us about catching our death out here or something.”

The two of them walked back inside the house, being hit by the wonderful smell of the soup, which Aragon was pouring into seven different colored bowls. She smiled at them.

“Have fun?”

“Yup!” Anne said. “Joan was very impressed.”

Joan gave two thumbs up in agreement. Aragon’s heart melted.

“Why are there seven bowls?” Kitty asked obnoxiously.

“Uhh. Joan.” Aragon answered, blinking. “You should know that, Kat. She’s standing right there.”

“Yeah, but… Can she even eat?”

“Kit, don’t be stupid,” Anne said, slightly defensive. “Come on, stop acting like this. You know damn well that the doctors wouldn’t wire her jaw shut for a long period of time if she wouldn’t be able to eat or drink for that long.”

Kitty is clearly miffed by her cousin not being on her side and shoots a glare at Joan for it. Then, she raised her nose, looked away, and huffed out an annoyed breath.

“How long will the wires be there?” Cathy asked curiously.

Joan held up eight fingers.

“Weeks?”

She nodded.

There was a swell of murmurs- intrigued, pitiful, amused. Aragon was the one who grimaced.

“I couldn’t imagine that,” She said, rubbing her own jaw as if she thought it might spontaneously break. “Not being able to open my mouth for that long.”

“It’s like reverse lockjaw,” Cleves observed. “Just with less seizures.”

“Does it hurt?” Cathy asked.

Joan made a so-so gesture and then set a tentative hand on one of her heavily bruised cheeks, remembering the touch from that rude tourist. Ever since she had been prodded, her jaw had started hurting again. It felt like someone was trying to forcefully pry her mouth open with a crowbar.

She tried to just ignore it and sat down at the dinner table after getting her bowl. The soup was a lot chunkier than she had been expecting; she looked at the slices of potato in dismay, unsure how she would get them past her firm wall of teeth.

“Need a straw?” Kitty teased. She yelped loudly when Anne kicked her underneath the table.

Joan scowled at the pink queen, then brought a spoonful of soup to her lips. She had to awkwardly tip her head back slightly to make sure she didn’t spill anything on her. Sadly, her teeth were too bound together by rubber-bands to keep her jaws from moving from opening just a sliver to allow the bits of meat and potato to pass through, so only the liquids that flow through the random holes between her teeth reach her throat and stomach.

It had been much easier to drink her coffee.

“Sweetheart,” Aragon said, unable to watch the poor girl struggle any longer. “I’ll get the blender.”

Joan hunched her shoulders, embarrassed. Kitty tittered. Anne kicked her again.

“Ow!” Kitty whined. “Stop doing that!”

“Then stop being a brat.” Anne said cooly.

“I’m not a brat!”

“Well, you’re acting like one right now.”

“This is very entertaining.” Cleves commented. Anne flashed her an agreeing grin. Kitty sulked.

The loud sound of the blender stopped the argument from continuing. A few moments later, Aragon set a cup of blended soup with a straw in front of Joan. Joan gawked at it and then looked up at Aragon, one eyebrow raised. Aragon quickly swiped the straw.

“First the mint and now this?” Anne laughed.

“What mint?” Cathy asked.

“Catalina apparently offered Joan a mint earlier.” Anne told her.

Laughter erupted around the table. Aragon rolled her eyes as she sat back down.

“It was a mistake!” She tried to defend herself. “And an accident!”

Joan gave her a small smile before going back to eating. Well- drinking. Although, it wasn’t much easier. She wished she had the syringe she had been using for the past two days or the tube the doctors had used with her.

She quickly licked off the thick caking of soup on her lips, hoping that nobody had noticed it was there, then saw Kitty leering at her. She bristled and raised her eyebrows as if to say, “What?”

“What’s the name of that Warriors cat with the weird jaw?” Kitty asked the rest of the group, pleasantly pretending like Joan wasn’t sitting just a few feet away from her.

“Crookedjaw?” Cathy answered.

“Yeah!” Kitty turned to Joan with a smile as crooked as the girl’s mouth. “We can call you Crookedjaw! Seems like a fitting nickname.”

Anne gaped in horror at her younger cousin. She was so startled that she couldn’t even kick the queen. Aragon, on the other hand, wasn’t as stricken as she was.

“Katherine, what the fuck?” Aragon seethed.

“What?” Kitty said innocently. “It fits her!”

“Are you fucking nuts?” Aragon said, eyes wide and burning like hot embers. “No, actually- are you stupid?”

“She was just messing around, Catherine.” Jane tried to smooth things over.

“Don’t defend her!” Aragon snapped. “You should tighten the leash on her.”

“She’s not a dog.” Jane hissed.

“And yet she’s as annoying as a chihuahua that never shuts up,” Aragon said. She stood up, grabbed her bowl, and walked over to Joan. “Come on, Joan.”

Joan got up and followed her to the staircase. Anne went with them, but not without rounding on her cousin.

“If you’re going to call her Crookedjaw, then maybe we should start calling you Lostneck or Severedhead.” She said coldly. A mocking smile curled on her lips. “Because it fits.”

Kitty went rigid, but neither Anne or Aragon stuck around for her possible panic attack. They herd Joan upstairs and to Aragon’s room.

“I am so sorry, Joan.” Anne said once they were inside. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“She thinks everything will be handed to her on a silver platter.” Aragon stated as she began to rummage through her pajamas. “Entitled brat. Just like you said.”

Anne nodded in agreement, then looked back at Joan. She carefully cupped one of her cheeks.

“Are you okay, my darling?”

Joan closed her eyes, unconsciously leaned into the touch, and nodded.

“Alright.” Anne said. “So… Movie night?”

“Sounds good to me,” Aragon said. She tossed a pair of pajamas over to Joan. “They might be a little big, but you can wear these.”

Joan nodded and padded off to the bathroom to change. When she returns, she finds Aragon and Anne already situated on the bed in their pajamas. Aragon was clad in a pale yellow nightgown with white rims and a bow near the collar, while Anne was dressed in green cotton sleeping pants and a button-down shirt of the same color. Joan looked a lot less fancy in a grey T-shirt with something about a fishing competition embroidered in white on it, which she had no idea what the origins of it being Catherine of Aragon’s dresser were, and some black gym shorts.

“Come on,” Anne waved her over, rolling out of the bed. “Lay down!”

It takes Joan a moment to realize she was supposed to lay in between them. She swallowed down her flustered feelings and obeyed, clambering up the side of the bed and sitting beside Aragon with her knees huddled close to her chest. She could feel the golden queen’s comforting warmth wavering off of her half-reclined body.

God, she was pathetic. Ever since Anne she touched her shoulder at that coffee shop something had awoken within her and refused to go back to sleep.

That something ranged from a persistently mewing kitten to a starved, roaring lion—she’d tried for a sheep or goat metaphor, because that seemed more fitting for her, but frankly, sheep were a good bit easier to manage than whatever this was.

Joan pointed to the TV as movies were flicked through and then gave each queen a questioning look. She knew she could sign, but she didn’t feel like putting Anne and Aragon through the process of having to translate what she was saying. Plus, just being completely quiet and onto using facial features and occasional gestures like this almost felt…serene.

“We’re watching Hush.” Anne said, smirking slightly. “Which has absolutely nothing to do with you not being able to talk, I promise.”

Joan giggled softly and nodded.

“Only because you lost Rock, Paper, Scissors.” Aragon retorted. She looked at Joan with motherly concern that nearly sent Joan keeling over into her chest crying. “Are you okay to watch it?”

Joan nodded. She could take it, really! She wasn’t a baby!

And yet, when the neighbor character is suddenly slammed against the glass backdoor with a knife in her gut, she still lurched backwards and nearly climbed up the headboard in fear. Anne laughed sympathetically, while Aragon gently touched her hand.

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” She asked softly.

Joan nodded, but still ducked her head away from the screen, wincing.

Aragon watched the poor girl cringe for two more minutes before she wrapped her up in her arms and pulled her securely against her chest. Joan was clearly surprised by this, but didn’t make any move to pull away. In fact, she burrowed deep into her embrace.

“Awww,” Anne cooed, glancing at the two of them. “So cute.”

“Jealous?” Aragon smirked.

Anne stuck her tongue out at her, then resumed watching.

Joan peeked out from where she had her face smothered in Aragon’s soft chest and begrudgingly continued to watch the movie because she was interested in it, she was just a tad bit frightened by it. But, again, it was okay! SHE was okay!

And then they got to the closeup of Maddie’s hand being broken and the memory of falling down the stairs flashed through Joan’s brain- slipping and falling, tumbling down each step, smashing her jaw into the tile at the bottom, the bones in her mouth crunching and cracking and grinding, her teeth cutting into her tongue and feeling like it had been severed completely, blood gargling in her throat, everyone staring at her. It was horrific, it STILL WAS horrific.

“Anne!” Aragon barked when Joan whimpered and hid her face back into her chest.

“I didn’t know that was in it!” Anne said, raising her hands. “This is the first time I’m seeing this!”

Anne paused the movie and turned to Joan, who was shaking in Aragon’s arm. She gently began to rub her back comfortingly, seeing as Aragon was already stroking her hair.

“Joan? My darling?” Anne called. “Are you okay?”

Joan nodded weakly, sniffling. She raised her head and Aragon immediately wiped away the tears in her eyes.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Aragon murmured.

“Does anything hurt?” Anne asked. “Or did you just get scared?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aragon nodded. “What she said! Are you hurting?”

Joan shrugged, looking away. Aragon slapped Anne’s arm frantically.

“Go get painkillers.”

“Catalina, how is she supposed to swallow a PILL?” Anne cried.

“Oh no, you’re right!” Aragon pulled Joan close to her bosom and bright red mixed awkwardly with purple and blue on the girl’s face. “My baby’s going to die!” She said woefully.

“She’s not going to—” Anne had to stop to give Aragon a confused looked. “She’s not going to die, Catalina.” She glanced momentarily at Joan smooshed against her chest. “I mean, not from not taking a pill, but your tits might suffocate her to death.”

Aragon looked down at Joan and quickly pushed her back. She cleared her throat and smoothed out her nightgown.

“Yes. Of course.” She said and Anne and Joan both laughed. She gave them a look. “I was just acting! I am an actor. And you fell for it!”

Anne rolled her eyes in a good natured way. “Yeah, okay.”

After making sure Joan was completely okay, they ended up switching the movie to The Incredibles 2. Joan was still very giddy from the way both queens fussed over her, and yet she still found her eyelids drooping shut…

—

“Catalina, look,” Anne whispered.

Aragon turned her attention away from the movie to look at Joan curled against Anne, soundly asleep. Then, she noticed one of the girl’s hands grasping three of her fingers- apparently she couldn’t find the other two in her tired daze. Her heart absolutely melted.

“Oh my,” She murmured. “What a sweet girl.”

“I know,” Anne grinned. “She’s so cute.” She leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of Joan’s head, causing her to stir with a sleepy noise before settling down. Anne gently began to stroke her hair.

Aragon moved closer until she and Anne were practically sandwiching the girl with their bodies. Joan seemed content, though, as she would constantly nuzzle closer to the warmth and touch.

Perhaps the eight weeks wouldn’t be so bad after all…


End file.
